My mom’s antique shop in Parkville, Missouri, was decimated by the flood of ’93. I remember at the time monitoring how high the river was predicted to crest by the chalk marks the Army Corps of Engineers put on the building. When the mark was raised to a point that predicted the flood waters would exceed theContinue reading ““I’m 300 years old””
Author Archives: Mike's Fountain Pen
And When I Die . . . Postscript
After posting the original essay on Friday, we left for the lake. I had selected a novel to take that I intended to read several years ago: The Loop by Nicholas Evans. Evans is the author of The Horse Whisperer – an excellent book that I enjoyed immensely, except for the ending. The Horse Whisperer was made into a movie starring RobertContinue reading “And When I Die . . . Postscript”
And When I Die
Steve and I go back about 60 years. We’ve experienced a lot together and even more apart. We meet for coffee about every other week. Whether past, present, or future – sometimes fused in a common timeframe – we cover a lot of ground. Fifty-two hours a year; time well-spent. During a recent coffee, our conversation turned to theContinue reading “And When I Die”
Free At Last . . . Well, Sort Of
There was a guy who lived in a town that was flooding, in danger of a complete breach of the dam higher in the valley. As the flood water was lapping up against the foundation of his house, firefighters came through offering to help him evacuate. He declined, saying God would save him. The rising waters forced himContinue reading “Free At Last . . . Well, Sort Of”
Talking to Myself
Welcome to my blog. This is a new journey for me. I hope that you find it interesting and engaging and decide to join me along the way. I have some ideas, but no grand plan for my blog. I anticipate short essays on topics ranging from books and music to social, political, and economic topics; stimulated by, IContinue reading “Talking to Myself”
Precedented Times
“There are years that ask questions and years that answer them.” – Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God I stepped onto the boardwalk. The street was empty. Hot. The wind vibrated as it ebbed between the clapboard buildings, carrying a fog of dust. A tumbleweed skipped down the street. Townspeople peered out their windows, anxiety clutching each one. Mid-March 2020 andContinue reading “Precedented Times”
The Nature of Work
The Nature of Work My brother sells real estate. Throughout the pandemic, he was busy every time I talked to him, telling me he was on his way to a closing, or that he just got a contract for $23,000 more than the listing price. He’s good, but he’s not that good! How can that be, I wondered. MillionsContinue reading “The Nature of Work”
Mike's Fountain Pen 